All In: Paying His Way (Gambling With Love) Read Free

light blue eyes narrowed suspiciously.
    Damn. Was she lying to me? No. It was more like she didn’t want to admit the truth to me. She ran away to avoid telling me.
    “I do,” I tell them.
    “But Jason doesn’t know?”
    “No clue. He’s never said a word about it to me if so, and I can’t just call him up at Fort Benning. I need to talk to her and find out what the fuck's going on. But all I know is she must be living around here somewhere.”
    “I might be able to help track her down,” Caleb says.
    “Really?”
    “Yeah. My best friend Tyler’s a GPD cop. I bet he could probably find an address for her. Do you know her date of birth?”
    “That would be great, thanks. Her name’s Maggie Frasier, and she’s Jason’s age, around twenty years old, so she was born in 1994 or 1995.”
    “Hang tight and I’ll give him a call. Normally he would be over here with us, but he’s at the beach visiting his parents.” Because it’s that M word day and he still has one is left unsaid. Lucky man. Before I turn around that mocking D word day will be coming around too. Maybe I should send my brother a card now that he’s a daddy. That dipshit.
    After all of Jason's fuckups, at least he’s trying to redeem himself by serving his country. I’m just not sure he’ll make it all four years enlistment without getting dishonorably discharged. Jason had just turned sixteen when our parents were killed by a drunk driver. I offered to let him move in with me, but he insisted he wanted to live with Josh, who wasn’t a good role model and had zero sense of responsibility. It was like the blind leading the blind with the two of them, constant parties, girls and drugs. Now that irresponsibility is coming back to bite my youngest brother in the ass. He should’ve come to live with me, and then maybe he would’ve had more goals and ambitions. Hopefully the military will be good for him and straighten him out.
    Caleb pulls out his phone and gives his buddy the information I have for Maggie.
    “He said he’ll ask one of the guys that’s at the station today to run it, and I gave him your number so he can text you whatever he finds out,” he tells me when he hangs up.
    “I appreciate it, Caleb.”
    “Sure. Now try to ease up and go eat something before my wife starts thinking her cooking sucks.”
    “No offense man, but Lauren's cooking does suck,” I say softly. A few weeks ago I nearly upchucked the overcooked crockpot beef stew she made. I didn’t know you could blacken food in one of those devices, but apparently Lauren can.
    “Shit, I know,” Caleb mutters in a whisper. “Just fix a plate with baked beans and potato salad, then trash it when she’s not looking. The burgers are fine since I grilled those.”
    “Thanks for the heads up,” I laugh before getting up from the lawn chair to go do as he said.
    Grabbing a plate at the food table set up in the backyard, I start piling fixings on a burger bun, intent on skipping the sides until Caleb’s wife steps out the back door and walks over.
    “Help yourself, Jordan. There’s plenty,” Lauren says with a smile that I return. It’s a good thing she’s pretty with her long, blonde hair and curves, because her cooking abilities leave much to be desired.
    Now, I know it sounds really sexist of me to think that a woman should be able to cook, but that’s not how I mean it at all. All I’m saying is that I would like to find a woman who can occasionally whip up a decent home cooked meal for me like the ones my mom used to make. Is that too much to ask? Nowadays women don’t cook. They’re too busy working nine to five jobs. So when it comes time to eat, they want to go out to a restaurant and have someone cook for them. I get that; I really do. I just remember my mom’s home cooking and how it was more than a meal when my brothers and I all sat down together to eat. It was a time to catch up and tell each other about our day or week, since I didn’t go over as